Unleashed
by neeki
Summary: AU, KK fic. Based on the new movie Unleashed, or Danny the Dog. Kenshin is an attack dog belonging to Saitou Hajime, underground member. When Saitou removes the collar around his neck, he kills all in his path. Can he be taught to live a normal life?


full summary: A/U, K+K fic. Based on the new movie Unleashed (Danny the Dog). Kenshin is an "attack dog" belonging to Saitou Hajime, underground member. When Saitou removes the collar around his neck, he kills all in his path. However, he is childlike and meek, frightened and lost, and he knows nothing of a normal life and has never heard a word of kindness. That is about to change, when a sudden turn of events allows him escape, and leads him to the doorstep of the only person that had ever treated him as a normal human being.

AN: does anyone still remember me?

This fic is based on the movie Unleashed (Danny the Dog). Thanks to Melody (melzx03) for making me write again.

Disclaimer: RK does not belong to me, but I do claim the hotness of Sagara Souzou as mine. My own…my precioussssss…………………..blink. And Unleashed (Danny the Dog) belongs to Festive Films. Also not mine.

Unleashed: chapter one---- Heel

"_It is not the size of the dog in the fight, it is the size of the fight in the dog."_

"Fascinating, Saitou-san, how you've created a perfectly obedient dog out of him." Yukishiro Enishi was impressed. In all his years in the yakuza, he had seen many assassins, but this one was by far the most successful, and quirky. He had called Hajime Saitou, a notorious triad leader, to a business meeting. They were the two most powerful underground members, and even though this was a friendly meeting, a tension hung between them. It was drawing to a close, the deal yet undecided, and the attention was drawn to Saitou's 'pet'. Saitou was an interesting man, after all. This was just his night job, in the day, he was police officer Saitou. Ironic. However, his 'pet' beat the police day job in weirdness by far.

The small redhead stood quietly behind his master, a heavy iron collar around his neck, attached to a thick, short leather leash, held taut. His red hair was cut jaggedly at shoulder length, partially covering his eyes. A sword hung on the belt loop of his ragged pants. He did not make eye contact with anyone, and did not speak.

"It is simple. He came to me an orphan at a young age, and I trained him. Anything is possible if they are trained young. He is the perfect assassin because he knows nothing." Saitou Hajime gave the leash a sharp tug, and the diminutive man looked at him meekly with wide, innocent, childlike eyes. He looked frightened, and flinched as his master raised a baton. "Sit." Immediately, at the quietly spoken command, he dropped to his knees, his wide, violet eyes staring at the floor. Enishi was surprised at the blatant innocence in his gaze, the lack of ferocity. Saitou grinned predatorily. He didn't like Enishi, the scheming man usually had something up his ratty sleeve. And Saitou didn't like that.

"He's like a child, the only thing that keeps him deadly is me and that collar around his neck. I remove it, and he slaughters all in his path, I put it back on, and he becomes docile. He is useful, certainly, in dealing with people. For example, you, Yukishiro. You pay me, and the collar stays on. You don't, and I unleash him." Saitou glanced at his wristwatch, "If you would excuse me, duty calls. Come, Kenshin." Enishi watched as the redhead jumped to his feet, and followed Saitou quietly. The idea intrigued him, it was a shame that both master and dog were to be killed. Enishi sighed. These meetings were beginning to take their toll on him.

Himura Kenshin, the attack dog, was Saitou Hajime's most precious possession. Exploiting his godlike fighting skills, Saitou was left with little enemies that he knew of. Plus, entering and betting on the deceptively tiny man in underground fight clubs earned him a considerable amount of pocket money. Tonight, Kenshin would win him a jackpot of five hundred grand.

The club was dark and smoky, and a jeering, drinking ring of spectators surrounded three people. Kenshin stood still in front of Saitou, still leashed and quiet. Opposite them stood a large man, twice the redhead's size, the undefeated champion of the ring. Almost all the bets lay on the champion's shoulders, for the spectators had taken one look at the small Kenshin and laughed. Saitou smirked at the sound of the bell, and took off the iron collar.

His quiet, gentle demeanor suddenly changed with the removal of the collar, and he stared fearlessly into the eyes of his opponent. The next moment, he was gone, and the large man toppled to the ground, his thick neck twisted at an unnatural angle. The club was quiet, and stared unbelievingly at the small redhead, now collared again. His eyes now held no fierceness, but a meek, naive, almost sad look, and he let loose a quiet whimper as he was jerked roughly from his place. "Heel." And the eyes of the crowd followed them as he followed his master. Tame. Almost as if put under a spell.

Saitou Hajime locked the suitcase of money in the boot of his car, a sleek black Jaguar, and hopped in the driver's seat. His attack dog was already tied and secure in the back seat of the car. A metal grille separated the front and back seats, like a police van, and Kenshin curled up on the floor of the car, as he was trained to do. He knew that they had another job to do tonight, and this time, he would take lives. Despite appearance, the fight club former champion was not dead, merely temporarily paralyzed by a twist to the brain stem. He would live, with minor brain damage. However, Saitou usually made money through loansharking. The group they were visiting tonight had missed the deadline for paying him back, and Saitou Hajime was not one to give chances. Kenshin knew that side of him extremely well, and he had the scars to prove it.

That was one of Saitou's training methods. Kenshin's fear of him was so deep-rooted that he obeyed instantly without thinking, for he knew perfectly well that he would be beaten severely if not. His helplessness against his master was so strong that he could not even defend himself against the brutality of the blows.

The car stopped abruptly, and a few moments later, he was jerked from his place yet again. He found himself face to face with the cold gaze of his master. "When I take the collar off, you kill. All of them." Saitou hit his side with the baton warningly, and barked. "Heel." He had seen a tinge of remorse in Kenshin at the fight club, and could not let that grow in him. Remorse would bring hesitation, and he had trained Kenshin to kill without a second thought. He led him through the back door of an old warehouse, and they ended up in the middle of the gang. Saitou knew their meeting times, and this was one of them. The collar clicked loose.

Kenshin sat, tied in a corner of a blood-spattered warehouse, cleaning himself off with a ragged towel. He pressed it against his cheek, feeling the softness of the fabric. It was as close to a kind word as he could get. His master was transferring all the gang's assets to his account and ownership, using information conveniently present during the meeting. He raised his shaggy head as Saitou kicked him, and stood as Saitou commanded him. "Heel. We're going back."

Kenshin's home was a cold metal cell sunk into the floor of his master's office. It was installed with steps and a thin blanket, but nothing else. He was usually thrown in as soon as they arrived back. Today was no exception, and the edge of the cold metal steps cut into his back as he fell onto them, rolling down onto the floor. An opened can of food and bottle of water was placed on the top step. The lights went out, and he was left alone, cold, and cheerless in the dark. He wasn't unhappy with his forlorn life, because he never was really happy, and how can a person know what either is without knowing the other? He didn't know anything of the outside world, or a normal life. He had never been treated as a person. The only thing that gave him a semblance of happiness was an old children's picture book. There in the dark, the pictures of smiling, cheerful people fascinated him, and it was his most prized possession. Sitting on the bottom step, he hugged his thin blanket and opened it, the only light he knew in the cruel darkness. An old, tattered children's picture book.

TBC

AN: ….what a crappy chapter. review please s I promise it will get better as we go along. actually, I might redo this one later on.


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